


Wayward

by mandaplz



Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: Alternate Universe, Eventual Romance, F/M, Fake Science, Friendship, Gen, Magical Accidents, Multi, Other, POV Female Character, Reader-Insert, Romance, Slow Build, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-26
Updated: 2017-10-07
Packaged: 2018-06-04 13:52:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 11
Words: 13,117
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6660853
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mandaplz/pseuds/mandaplz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You're wasting time when a freak incident sends you to another land.  A very familiar land with some very familiar people.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Crash Landing

            It was your day off, and you had nothing to do.  So you found yourself sitting in front of your laptop, wearing your favorite jeans, sweater, and house slippers.  You managed to kill about an hour browsing social media before becoming even more bored.  Clicking out of your web browser, a familiar set of icons caught your eye.  You smiled and double-clicked on the red symbol.

            “Haven’t been to Kirkwall in a while…” You chuckled as the game began to load.

            Much to your surprise, the game seemed different.  Had there been some update installed you weren’t aware of?  You frowned at this new opening cutscene.  The blur of colors was incredibly small and difficult to see.  You found yourself leaning forward until the tip of your nose brushed the screen.  As soon as skin touched screen, lighting cracked across the clear sky, and you found your vision growing dim.

 

* * *

           

“What the hell is she wearing?”

            “She must have washed up from a faraway land!  Just like one of your stories, Varric!”

            “Easy now Daisy.  Don’t get too close.  Not everyone is as cuddly as I am.”

            “She doesn’t look dangerous.  We should help her.”

            “…Must you rescue every stray, Hawke?”

            “It’s kinda what we do Fenris.”

            You groan at the too-loud voices, and force your eyes open.  You’re rapidly blinking in the sunlight.  And on the ground… in sand?  You sat straight up in shock, staring at the ocean before you.  Apparently you’d moved too quickly though, because you could feel dizziness overtaking you.

            “Hey, easy there.” A strong hand supported your upper back. “What’s your name? Where are you from?”

            You stared at the strange man before you, mouth agape.  The bright blue eyes, the tousled dark hair, and most distinctively, that red war paint across his face.  _‘I’m dreaming.’_ You told yourself.  But the sand beneath your hands felt coarse and real.  And this man… you reached out in a daze and placed a hand on his chest.  He was solid.  He had a heartbeat.  And a rather snide grin.

            “I’m charming, I know.” He chuckled. “But I think maybe you hit your head.  Or something.”

            “I’m ________”. You blurted. “And you’re… not real.  Can’t be.”

            He raised his eyebrows as you attempted to convince yourself that this was some sort of hyper realistic dream.

            “See?  Not dangerous.  Just a little confused.” He told his companions behind him. “We can take her to see Anders.  Maybe he can help.”  He turned back to you. “I’m Hawke by the way.  Can you walk?”

            You unsteadily rose to your feet, and stared wide-eyed at Hawke’s company.  Two very familiar elves, and a very familiar dwarf.  You took a step forward and stumbled a little.  Hawke scooped you up in his arms easily.

            “Okay, so that’s a no to the walking.” He said cheerfully.

            “I can walk.” You protested quietly, trying not to feel overwhelmed.

            “Just think of me as your rogue knight in scratched armor.” Hawke replied with a cheeky wink, strolling up the beach with you in his arms.

            “Scratched armor?” You snorted in spite of yourself.

            “Varric, don’t write that down.  I can hear your quill.” Hawke called over his shoulder.

            “Did I have anything with me?” You asked suddenly.  “Like my phone, or wallet?”

            “Your what or your what?” Hawke stared at you in confusion.

            “I need it to call… to contact. People.” You explained lamely, before realizing that phones didn’t exist in Kirkwall. “Never mind.”

            Hawke let it go easily enough, but you could have sworn you heard a certain moody elf muttering about ‘mad women’.

 

* * *

 

 

            Apparently you’d been found not far from Kirkwall, since you arrived within twenty minutes.  You insisted at the gates that you could walk, however.  Enough people were gaping at your jeans, slippers, and hoodie.  That was enough attention for you.  Fenris quickly tired of this, and announced he was taking his leave.

            And so you shuffled along to Darktown, right on Hawke’s heels.  Varric stole curious glances, and Merrill stared openly while talking your ear off.

            “Your clothes are so very strange!  Which isn’t a bad thing of course.  Strange is good.  Not that I think _you’re_ strange, I… oh dear…”

            You managed to nod along with her, wanting to be polite.  Fortunately, you arrived at another familiar location very soon… and found another familiar face.


	2. The Doctor is In

            You follow Hawke through the shabby little door in a daze, eyes roaming wildly.  The Darktown Clinic was surprisingly empty of people, and in disarray.  Most people wouldn’t be impressed with the rundown space you’d entered… but then again, most people wouldn’t be aware that a secret Mage lived and worked here.  Speaking of the devil, a rather gaunt and grim figure stepped out of the shadows, eyes glowing blue.  You squeaked in spite of yourself, and took a step back into Merrill, who patted your back and whispered something soothing.

            “ _WHAT HAVE YOU BROUGHT INTO MY SANCTUARY, HAWKE?”_

“ _She_ washed up on the beach, Justice.” Hawke replied, unfazed by the intimidating greeting. “Doesn’t know where she is and all that.  I thought Anders should take a look at her.”

            Hawke reached behind him and grabbed your wrist, tugging you forward.  You blinked rapidly, feeling unsure.  You knew Anders to be a good (though misguided) man at heart.  But Justice… how corrupt had he become by staying in an impure human?  Had he turned to Vengeance?  And the way he referred to you as a ‘what’… could the spirit tell that you were from another world?

            Anders blinked, the strange blue glow fading.  He frowned at you, and you were relieved to see his eyes were concerned rather than suspicious.  He gestured toward a battered cot that, while old, seemed rather clean.  Hawke gently prodded you forward, and you sat down, looking uncertain.  Anders knelt before you, and you blushed as he offered you a slight smile.

            “I apologize if I frightened you.  Can’t be too careful in these times… I’m Anders.”

            “________”. You replied. “And don’t mind me.  I’m just a bit… fuzzy.”

            “Fuzzy?” Anders repeated, delicately holding your face in his hands, gazing at your eyes. “Can you see and hear me clearly?”

            “Yes. Not like that kind of fuzzy.” You backtracked, feeling rather foolish. “I… fell.”

            Hawke snorted behind you, earning an elbow from Varric.

            “You fell.” Anders repeated. “Into the ocean.”

            “I think so. In a way.”

            “Were you on a ship?  Walking along the cliffs?” He asked, now gently poking at various spots on your head.

            “No… nothing hurts, by the way.” You said. “I just…”

            You trailed off and stared at his shoulder, feeling frustrated and slightly ashamed.  You’d had realistic dreams before, sure, but nothing like _this_.  Everything was too vivid… the damp smell of Darktown, the brightness of the lamp nearby, Anders' fingers in your hair…

            “I think you three should leave for now.” Anders informed your rescuers, withdrawing his hands suddenly.

            They began to protest, only to be cut off again.

            “She might need to speak with me privately.” Anders said more pointedly.

            Varric and Hawke nodded, while Merrill blinked in confusion.

            “But why? Will she be alright?”

            “Yes Daisy. C’mon, how bout we grab some dinner?” Varric led the distraught elf out, offering you a nod and a wave.  You returned the gesture in bemusement.

            “I’ll, ah… be right outside.” Hawke slipped out the door after them, letting the door swing close with a dull ‘thud’.

            Anders turned back to you, dark hazel eyes warm but serious.

            “I know you don’t know me, or anything about me. But I’m a very skilled healer, and have seen and heard just about everything.” He said softly. “I promise not to tell anyone what you tell me. And whatever happened… it wasn’t your fault.”

            You stared at Anders for about a solid minute before you suddenly realized what he was trying to get at.

            “Oh no!” You said, a little louder than you’d meant. “I mean, thank you, but no. Nothing like that. It… I was…”

            “Tell me everything you remember until they found you.” Anders suggested.

            “You’d never believe me.” You said wearily.

            “Try me.”

            “Well… I was home.  In my room.  And I was…” You struggle with your words, knowing that your everyday technology had no equivalent in Dragon Age.

            “…My land is very different.  There’s no magic, not like here.  But we have… boxes.  All sizes.  And they show you moving pictures, and let you talk to people far away.”

 _‘That is quite possibly the worst explanation for computers I have ever heard.’_ You scolded yourself internally.

            “So I was watching the moving picture, but it was different than usual.  So I leaned in, and then there were all sorts of colors and sounds and then it went dark.  And then… I woke up on the beach.”

            Anders had listened patiently throughout your odd tale, studying your face intently.  You wondered if he thought you were insane, or just a very strange liar.

            “I believe you.” Anders finally said, much to your relief and astonishment. “It’s extraordinary, and you say it’s not magic, but it doesn’t seem untrue… You seem sincere, and you’re obviously real.  And this world is real.”

            “But then… can I go back?” You asked, your momentary joy being replaced by a surge of anxiety.

            “I’m not sure.  I’ll do some research.” The mage replied. “But… this is beyond any magic I’ve ever performed or seen.  What happened to you, I’ve only heard in ancient lore.”

            “Wait, really?” You asked eagerly, perking back up. “That’s good isn’t it?  There might have been other people like me?”

            Anders smiled at you, and rested a hand on your shoulder.

            “I’ve heard a few stories of strangers from different lands arriving… but none about them leaving.”

            “So… I might be stuck.”

            “I don’t want to get you overly excited.  But I promise to try.”

            “What will I do?” You looked aghast. “Where will I go?  I don’t have money here, or food, or shelter, or even the right clothes…”

            “Fret not, fair lady!” You and Anders both jumped as Hawke strode back into the room. “I’ll set you up with a room at The Hanged Man.  And we can get some of my sister’s things tailored to fit you.”

            “I appreciate that.” You replied, a little ashamed at agreeing so easily. “But… how can I repay you?”

            Hawke’s cheerful smile grew a little wider and he winked at you suggestively

            “I’m sure we can think of something.” He laughed. “Although, I know Corff needs another girl to serve and clean.”

            “I can do that.” You agree, nodding. “I don’t know how to thank you… either of you.”

            “Just keep your head down, and ask Hawke or Varric to walk you back down here if you’re unwell.” Anders replied, offering a hand to help you off the cot.

            “I’ll take great care of our lost Princess.” Hawke vowed solemnly, offering you an arm.

            “Princess?” You scoffed, looping your arm through his.

            “Andraste’s knickers.” Anders swore, looking irritated. “You had your ear to the door, you nosy bastard.”

            “You can’t prove anything.” Hawke placed a hand to his chest, the very picture of innocence. “And Varric’s the one referring to her as a Princess.  Merrill gave him the idea.”

            “You’re going to get her mugged or worse.” Anders commented wryly.

            “Not when people realize who she’s associated with.” Hawke countered, standing up a little straighter, his chest puffed slightly.

            “Trouble finds us, Hawke.” Anders warned.

            “It’s rude to talk about people like that.” Hawke scolded, nodding at you.

            Before you or Anders could protest, he’d swept you out the door and into Darktown.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for the kudos, and lovely reviews. This is seriously one of the best writing communities on the internet. Everyone is so kind, and very good about pointing out mistakes/giving suggestions/etc kindly. :) 
> 
> Just a few quick questions, answer if you please~
> 
> Does the second person POV (you, your, etc) work well? Or is the third person (she, her) preferable for a reader insert?
> 
> Also, I was toying with the idea of adding some CullenxReader as well. Yea or nay?
> 
> Does everyone seem roughly in character? Do let me know if some dialogue comes off too OOC.


	3. Settling In

            True to his word, Hawke had indeed gotten you a room (and job) at the Hanged Man.  Corff, who tended bar, was a kind enough man.  You were a welcome addition to the tavern, Norah being the only other waitress.  She wasn’t particularly enthused about her job or the clientele, but she was nice enough.  More importantly, she took pity on you and gifted you with several outfits she no longer wore.

            “Never fit the same after that damned brat.” She said by way of explanation, gesturing toward her stomach.

            They all fit well enough, and now you looked no more out of place than anyone else wandering around Kirkwall.  It felt a bit odd to be wearing a skirt and apron every day, but at least you weren’t uncomfortable. 

            Your first few days flew by in a blur, and you were soon working longer shifts than Norah.  The patrons were obviously excited to have a fresh face serving up ale, and showed it with their tips… and a few crude comments.  Fortunately, Varric was usually around to scare off the ruffians, and on the occasion he wasn’t…

            “Are you bothering my pet?”

            A pair of tan arms wrapped around you, and you were pulled back into a rather ample bosom.  You flushed as red as your dress.  Isabella had met you through Varric, and taken an immediate liking to you.  Her interest was a bit overbearing sometimes, but most Kirkwallers knew better than to irritate the Rivaini pirate.

            “Isabella, you can let go.” You mumbled as the embarrassed catcaller settled his tab and scurried off.

            She obliged with a pout, but was soon distracted by a group of incoming sailors.  With a wink and pinch to your bottom, she quickly vanished into the crowd.  You grimaced a little, wondering if you’d have to hear about another “strange itch” next time your paths crossed.

            “__________!”

            You jumped a little as Corff’s voice rang out over the din, and you quickly reported to the bar.  He slid a bag of coins and a dagger toward you.

            “Look, normally I wouldn’t ask since it’s late, but d’you mind running to the docks and picking up a crate of lemons…?” He asked hopefully.

            “Sure.” You agreed easily, tucking the dagger into your waistband and the pouch into your apron pocket.

            You’d already had some knowledge of Kirkwall’s layout, and were getting more familiar with the city as Corff sent you off on errands.  He always, to your amusement, lent you a dagger ‘just in case’.  So far you’d never needed it.  You suspected this had something to do with Varric and his contacts.

            And so you slipped out into the night, not realizing a pair of greedy eyes had seen the coins and was trailing out the door behind you.

 

* * *

 

 

            The moon was full and high in the sky tonight, which you took as a good omen.  Most of Kirkwall’s troublemakers didn’t strike in well-lit areas.  You just had to stick to the main streets.  You walked leisurely toward the docks, oblivious to a dark figure moving closer until it was too late.

            “Mmmph!” Your scream was muffled as a hand covered your mouth and pulled you into a small alley.

            Your assailant then tossed you to the ground, knocking the breath out of you.

            “I want all the coin you got.” He snarled, kneeling beside you and curling a hand around your throat.

            You squeaked, hands going to your apron.  Instead of the pouch, however, you drew your dagger and slashed it at the man’s neck.  He released you with a yelp, hands flying to his throat as you attempted to scramble away.  You’d cut him alright, but it was shallow, and he soon recovered from the shock. Again you were flung to the ground, this time with your hands pinned on either side of your head.

            “I gave you a chance.  Now look what you’re making me do!”

            Before you could find out just what that was, the man stiffened suddenly, eyes blank.  He was then suddenly pulled off you and tossed aside.  You stared up at your savior in wonder.

            Swirls of pulsing blue light wrapped around his arms and neck.  A beam of moonlight illuminated his snowy hair, making him seem even more ethereal.  The beauty of the moment was ruined with a loud SQUELCH.  Red blood seeped between clawed fingers.

            “Fenris.” You whispered.

            “______”. He answered, sounding almost bored. “I knew you weren’t quite sane, but I didn’t take you for stupid.”  
            “I’m not stupid.” You retort automatically.

            “You were wandering around Kirkwall after midnight, coins clinking in your apron.  You had only a dagger for protection, which you don’t even know how to use.”

            “Yes, well… Thanks.” You flushed at his criticisms, then stood and brushed yourself off.

            “You’re injured.” Fenris’ even tone darkened as he stepped closer to you, glaring at your neck.

            “I am?” You asked in confusion.

            “You’re red and bruised.” Fenris scowled angrily. “I gave him a far more merciful death than he deserved.”

            “Uh, well.  At least he’s gone.” You reply awkwardly, unsure of how to respond.

            Fenris grunted in response, still scowling at your neck, eyes trailing toward your wrists where there was yet more swelling and bruised.

            “I suppose I ought to escort you to the abomination.” He frowned.

            “You want to take me where!?”

            “The abomination.  That self-righteous mage.”

            “Anders.” You clarified.

            “Yes. That.” Fenris sneered, then gestured in the general direction of Darktown. “Let us make haste.”

            The short walk to Darktown was uncomfortably quiet.  You wanted to let Fenris know just how much his rescue of you had meant, and to let him know that you appreciated how difficult it was for him to voluntarily go within a hundred feet of Anders.  But you honestly weren’t sure of how to phrase either of those things… and the elf’s expression was particularly foreboding.

            Upon reaching the door to the clinic, Fenris simply kicked it in before turning to walk off.

            “Oh, Fenris!” You grasped his hand and he stiffened. “I… thank you. Really.”

            He nodded, and awkwardly squeezed your hand in acknowledgement before slipping into the night.  Though you didn’t see it, the normally broody elf had the slightest of smiles play across his lips for a brief moment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you kindly to my reviewers and kudos-givers~


	4. Not-So-Independent Study

            “________...?” A sleepy Anders appeared in the open doorway, looking ruffled and confused.

            His tired bemusement turned to concern as you stepped forward into the light.  Your neck and wrists were red and littered with bruises.  You had dirt and scrapes on your arms and one cheek as well.  He ushered you in quickly, getting you settled on a cot.  He fetched some water and a rag, and gently began washing the scrapes.  You winced a little despite his carefulness.  The adrenaline was wearing off from your encounter.  You also realized that your head and back were aching as well.

            “What happened?” Anders asked.

            “Corff needed me to run an errand, but I ran into some trouble.” You answered sheepishly.

            “What could be so important at this hour that he risked you?” Anders demanded, sparks of blue flickering in his dark hazel eyes. “And then you had to come here by yourself!”

            “Actually, Fenris saved me.  I probably would’ve been dead.” You confess quietly. “He brought me here then ran off.”

            Anders looked genuinely surprised.  Hawke had told his followers the story of the “fallen princess”, and asked them to look out for her.  But he’d doubted that Fenris would take the job seriously.  At least, not so seriously that he’d willingly come to Anders’ doorstep for a few scrapes and bruises.  Brushing the thought aside, Anders channeled his magic to his hands and began to heal you. 

            You close your eyes, finding the sensation oddly enjoyable.  The magic was comfortably warm, yet soothingly cool.  It excited and relaxed you all at once.  Anders gently brushed your hair from your neck, and cradled your head in his hands.  You couldn’t help but let a little sigh escape your lips.  Still cupping your face with one hand, Anders placed the other at the back of your head where a bump had formed.  Yours eyes fluttered open as the magic stopped, and found yourself nearly nose to nose with the healer. 

 _'No computer could ever do this justice.’_ You thought, noticing that Anders had very faint freckles across his cheeks.

            He pulled away afterward, examining you critically.

            “I think I got everything.  Next time, don’t go unless someone comes with you.” Anders warned sternly. “I’ll have to have a word with Corff.”

            “We were out of lemons.” You said defensively.

            “Oh, excuse me.” Anders rolled his eyes. “It all makes perfect sense now.”

            “Lots of people like them in their drinks.” You elaborated, much to Anders’ amusement.

            “I’m aware… but not even the finest ale is worth risking a lovely lady.” He chuckled.

            “Oh. Well. Thank you.” You managed to reply, feeling rather pleased with yourself.

            “Now… may I escort you back?” Anders offered you his arm, and you accepted with a smile.

            “Yes please, Ser Mage.”

            The title earned another chuckle and warm smile from Anders.  You were beginning to think it was almost worth getting mugged, if it meant seeing the normally-sullen man laugh.

 

* * *

 

 

            Corff ended up getting the lemons himself the next morning, thoroughly ashamed after Anders informed him of your ordeal.  He also offered you the day off, which was rather nice.  Anders hadn’t found any more information on how to get you home, and none of the books in Varric’s collection had helped.  The closest thing Kirkwall had to a library was the Chantry, so you figured you’d try there next.  Your impromptu trip was oddly enjoyable, but you knew you simply didn’t belong in this world.

            And so you climbed the steps up to the Chantry, in awe at how truly huge and splendid it was.  Your computer at home had the best graphics, and you knew the building was beautiful… but the simulated images paled in comparison to the real thing.  Inside, it was peaceful and mostly empty, much to your relief.  Even though you blended in with the crowd, you couldn’t quite shake the feeling that you stuck out somehow.

            You headed up to the second level, and began running your finger across the tomes on the shelves, trying to find something that stuck out…

            _‘Andraste: Bride of the Maker’…_ No.

 _‘An Herbalist’s Guide to the Freemarches…’_ Definitely not.

            _‘Ferelden Cheese and You’_ …that was actually a book?

            _‘How to Train Your Mabari’…_

            _‘The Lusty Rivaini Maid’…_

_‘Otherworldy Oddities: Dreamwalking, Eluvian, and More’_

            This last one seemed promising.  Unfortunately, it was also just out of reach.  You stood on tiptoe and stretched your arm desperately before resorting to jumping and swiping at the book.  You then became aware of a rumbling laugh behind you.  You spun around and nearly lost your balance.

            Sebastian of Starkhaven was there, in flesh, sapphire eyes twinkling at you.  The sun glinted on his flawless white armor as he approached you.

            “I apologize for laughing milady, it was unkind.  I am Sebastian.” He bowed his head slightly, looking sheepish. “Might I grab a book for you?”

            “I’m ______.  And if you don’t mind, then yes serrah, that dark blue one with the gold trim.”

            He reached up easily and grabbed the large book, handing it to you.  He raised a brow at your selection.

            “A bit of light reading?”

            “Kind of.” You smiled awkwardly. “I’m… interested in travel.”

            “In travel.” He repeated.

            “Yes.” You confirmed, realizing that you were seeming stranger by the minute.

            “Are you, perhaps, acquainted with Hawke?” He asked, a look of understanding crossing his face.

            “Oh no.” You groaned. “What did you he tell you?”

            “That you’re from another land… another world.” Sebastian looked at you with interest. “Something brought you here, but no one is sure what or how or why.”

            “That about sums it up.” You agreed.

            Sebastian placed a hand on your shoulder and offered you a comforting smile.

            “I can’t say I’ve been in your shoes… but I understand the feeling of being out of place.” He explained. “I’ve found great comfort in Andraste and Her Chantry.  Should you ever need someone to talk to, I’m willing to listen.”

            Before you could thank Sebastian, Hawke appeared, whistling at the two of you.

            “Seb!  Getting touchy-feely with the lass, eh?” He teased, mocking Sebastian’s brogue.

            Sebastian withdrew his hand immediately, turning bright red and spluttering out a denial.  Hawke slid an arm around your waist and pulled you in close.

            “Suit yourself.” Hawke commented. “You snooze, you lose.”

            “I, uh. Yes. Excuse me.” Sebastian nodded at you both before scurrying off.

            “Must you make everyone uncomfortable?” You ask Hawke with a frown.

            “Only if I like them.” He answered with a wink. “Anyhow, my sister sent me a few books from the Chantry I thought you’d like to read.  And it’s about time you met Mother.”

            “I didn’t know our relationship was on that level yet.” You replied teasingly.

            “It is.” He confirmed with a devilish grin. “And since you’re coming home with me… I get to show you my Little Hawke.”  
            “Your… what!?” You demanded, cheeks blazing red.

            Hawke’s laughter echoed around the Chantry, earning scowls from the Sisters passing by.

            “Our Mabari hound.” He finally explained, wiping a tear from his eye. “By the Maker, your face…”

            “I’ll be sure to tell everyone just how ‘little’ your ‘Little Hawke’ is.” You retorted.

            “No one would believe you.” Hawke said cheerfully. “Clearly you haven’t worked at the tavern long enough… there’s some really great songs about me!”

            “Oh, gross.” You complained. “Who’d want to hear about that?”

            “I agree.” Hawke said slyly. “Personally, I like show and tell…”  
            “...show and I’ll tell your mother.” You threatened.

            “I don’t think she’d care to know.” Hawke replied, obviously enjoying the banter.

            You shook your head, pointedly ignoring Hawke as he continued to goad you.  At least it wasn’t a long walk to the Amell Estate.


	5. Rags to Riches

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for your patience.  
> I've been struggling with a lack of inspiration, as well as being very busy lately!

            The Amell manor estate was a stunning example of Kirkwall architecture.  You slowed down as you approached it, lingering to admire its stately beauty.  An impatient Hawke gently prodded you along.  He opened the door with a dramatic flourish and ushered you in.  Immediately, you were greeted by a trio of familiar servants.  The two dwarves bowed and the elven girl swept a curtsy, all murmuring polite greetings.

            “Orana, Bodahn, Sandal.” Hawke said cheerfully. “I’d like to present my friend, ______.”

            “How do you do?” You greeted them with an awkward wave, unsure if you should curtsy as well.

            “Miss ______!” Bodahn beamed at you warmly. “Master Hawke speaks most highly of you.”

            You raise a brow at Hawke, who shifts a little and coughs uncomfortably.  Before you can tease him, an elegant woman comes sweeping down the stairs.

            “Garrett, I see you’ve brought your new lady friend.” She beamed as she approached you.

            “ _Garrett?”_ You whispered mockingly to Hawke, who scowled.  
            “Yes mother. This is my newest stray, ______”. He took your elbow and presented you to his mother. “_____, this is my mother. Leandra Amell Hawke.”

            “Pleased to meet you.” You decided to sweep a crooked curtsy.

            “Well, she’s much politer than the usual riff raff.” Leandra commented, though her eyes and smile were warm. “With a bit more polish, she’d be a real Lady.”

            Before you or Hawke could respond, a door crashed open and a brown blur hurtled through.  Little Hawke had heard the commotion and was eager to make your acquaintance, his eyes bulging excitedly as his tongue lolled and tail wagged.

            “Ohh you’re a handsome brute!” You cooed, offering him a hand to sniff.

            He snuffled at you in interest, then let out an excited bark.

            “You pass.” Hawke translated.

            You scratched Little Hawke behind the ears, his body still wiggling with excitement.

            “She’s practically Ferelden.” Hawke boasted to his mother, who rolled her eyes.

            “Yes, well.  Do come in. Orana has set up some refreshments for us.”  Leandra gestured after the elf, who’d begun to make her exit into another room, trailed closely by a suddenly hungry Mabari.

            Hawke offered you his elbow, which you accepted with an eye-roll.  Upon entering the dining room, he then made a big show of pulling out your chair and seating you.  Leandra looked thrilled.  You got the feeling that manners weren’t something Hawke displayed too often.

            The three of you engaged in light conversation as you enjoyed the warm tea and fresh pastries.  Then Leandra cleared her throat and looked at you thoughtfully.

            “You’re even more delightful than my son said.  Well-spoken, polite, intelligent, and of course very pretty.”  
            “Oh my, wow. Thank you.” You flushed and gave Hawke a little grimace, wondering what on earth he’d gotten you into.

            “As you probably know, my daughter, my sweet Bethany…” Leandra trailed off for a moment before recovering. “As a mage, she is confined to the Circle.  I have been able to reclaim my title and standing in Kirkwall, but I must confess it is lonely to attend the balls and other such high society events alone.  Typically, you would bring your heir or heiress.  Garrett would never consent to such ‘pageantry’…” She paused to give her son a stern look, which he cleverly avoided by putting a whole scone in his month.

            “And I cannot present my Bethany to society, obviously.  But I should like to have a companion, almost an apprentice, that I could have accompany me.”

            Leandra looked at you, her big blue eyes (much more serious than her son's) pleading.

            “I’d of course take care of all your clothing, jewelry, hair, and makeup needs.  And Garrett told me about that rough tavern you stay in… we have so much room here.  It would be wonderful to have a young woman in the house again.”

            You bit your lip, considering.  It honestly wasn’t a bad deal at all.  Getting dolled up and keeping a nice lady company?  Plus much nicer room and board?  Corff had just hired another two girls, so the tips weren’t as much.  And it’s not as if they really _needed_ you anymore… Hawke leaned over and rested a hand on yours.

            “You don’t have to.” He murmured, looking slightly ashamed. “I probably should’ve asked you first, but I thought…”

            “Yes.” You declared over Hawke’s mumbling. “Milady, I’d be honored.”

            “Wonderful!” Leandra clasped her hands together. “And please, call me Leandra.  You’ve made an old woman very happy.  I’ll send Bodahn to fetch your things, and have Orana take your measurements for some new clothes.”

            Orana appeared again with a curtsy, tape measure in hand.  You stood up and let her gently direct you on how to stand so she could get accurate numbers.  Hawke was smiling at you, in a way you’d never seen.  Not grinning or smirking or waggling his brows… just truly smiling.  It was obvious how much he cared for his mother.  Leandra chattered on in the background, whipping out parchment, ink, and a quill. 

            “You two can enjoy the day then.  I’ll take care of everything.”

            Hawke exchanged kisses with his mother then cheerfully led you out of the room.

            “I haven’t seen her that happy since Bethany and I got the estate back.” He looked at you admiringly. “And I know we just threw that at you, but… thank you.”

            “It’s a good deal for me too.” You pointed out. “I feel like Cinderella!”  
            “Who’s that?” Hawke looked baffled.

            “A character from a fairytale.” You explained, once again forgetting that your worlds were vastly different.  
            “What’s it about?” He asked.

            “Cinderella is a poor girl with a wicked stepfamily, but she meets a wonderful prince and they fall in love, and he makes her a princess.” You gave him the briefest version possible.

            “That makes me your prince.” Hawke said smugly, bowing over your hand dramatically and kissing it.

            “Actually… I think that’d be your mother.  You’re more like the pumpkin carriage.”

            “Pumpkin carriage!?”

            “Yes.  Her fairy godmother turns a pumpkin into a carriage to take her to the ball, where she meets the prince.”

            “…Fairy godmother?”

            “Like… a personal mage, who watches over you.” You were beginning to regret mentioning the classic tale.

            “Ah.  Like Anders.” Hawke nodded seriously.

            You snorted at the vision of Anders fluttering about, fussing over teenage peasants and the parties they wanted to attend.

            “Sure.” You shook your head in exasperation.

            The two of you walked outside, enjoying the mild weather for a few moments in companionable silence.  
            “Hawke... Your mother knows I’m not from here, right?” You ask suddenly.

            “Yes…” He looked sheepishly. “I swear though, no one else but our little group and her.”

            “No no, that’s not it.  But she knows I’m going to leave soon, right?  Anders is working on it, and I found a really promising book.” You gestured to the leather handbag Merrill had gifted you.

            Hawke smiled at you sadly.

            “_____... I don’t want to hurt you, but I’m not gonna let you have false hope.” He began gently, steering you toward a bench to sit with him.

“Anders has had no luck.  I had Bethany poke around in the Circle, and as smart as she is, she’s come up empty.  I even went to the Dalish and they had nothing.  It’s not looking good.”

            “…oh.” You looked at the ground, finding it suddenly interesting.

            Everyone here had been so wonderful.  This world was more vibrant than you could have ever imagined.  You’d always wished there was a way to come here, but now that it had come true, you regretted it.

            Yes, your favorite people and places were real and made you fall in love all over again.  And your average life at home hadn’t been exciting, but, it was home.  You missed the little things, like driving your car or having coffee with coworkers during a break.  You missed listening to music you knew, chatting with your family on the phone.  You weren’t particularly close to anyone, and had always felt a little left out, but still…

            There’s no place like home.

            Your thoughts were interrupted when Hawke pulled you into a tight embrace, resting his chin on the top of your head.  You swallowed hard and closed your eyes, willing yourself not to give in and cry.

            Hawke remained uncharacteristically silent, just holding you while you quivered with emotion.  The two of you remained this way as the sun began to sink lower, and passersby stared.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Expect another update from me sooner rather than later this time, hopefully.  
> I'm not confident in the way I wrote Leandra, or how I presented this plot point. But I figured we don't want to live in The Hanged Man forever. ;)


	6. Shall We Dance?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been a bit, but heeerree we go. For those that are still interested, an update! With one soon to follow. Probably.

Within mere days, a talented Orana had either sewn or acquired an entirely new wardrobe for you.  You had everything from elegant ball gowns to casual leggings and tunics, all artfully tailored with fine fabric and leathers.  Varric had brought your few possessions over from The Hanged Man, lamenting that he’d miss his favorite serving girl.

            “You’ll get a kick out of those high society types though.” He assured you. “And hear some great gossip… don’t be afraid to take a few notes for your favorite author.”

            Isabella and Merrill had also stopped by to admire your new lodgings, oohing and ahhing over the carved wooden furniture and expensive drapery.

            “You really are like a princess, aren’t you?” Merrill sighed dreamily

            “Such a large bed for such a small girl… be sure to let me know if you get lonely.” Isabella purred, causing Merrill to look utterly confused.

            “Do you think she’ll get nightmares?” She inquired.

            “Perhaps.  Us girls ought to stick together just in case.” Isabella answered sweetly, winking as you rolled your eyes.

            Leandra granted you a generous weekly allowance in exchange for accompanying her to various luncheons, dinners and errands.  In between all this, she gave you lessons on exactly how a lady behaved.  You’d always thought you were well mannered, and knew the difference between forks, but there were all sorts of intricacies to high society you’d never imagined.

            “The Orlesians,” Leandra explained, her nose wrinkled slightly, “Refer to this as ‘The Game’.  As if politics and social status were so trivial.”

            Before long, Leandra had deemed you officially ready to introduce to society.

            “But I’ve already met most of the important people.” You commented as Leandra and Oranna bustled around you, lacing up your extravagant ball gown and adjusting your hair and makeup. “And I’ve been out and about with you.”

            “Yes dear, and you’ve done very well.” Leandra replied approvingly. “It’s time for Kirkwall to witness your formal debut, as a Lady.”

            “Don’t you need to be related to a certain family, or do something really important for that title?” You asked.

            “Well… usually.” Leandra conceded. “But not to worry, you’ll be considered a proper Lady.  Who knows, you may even marry up!”

            You sat quietly through the rest of your preparations.  It was obvious that none of your newfound friends really thought you’d ever return to your real home.  In a sense, it was flattering.  They’d done so much to include you and make you a part of their lives and this world.  But you’d never really belong.  Especially not enough to marry some noble man.

 

* * *

 

 

            You stood at the top of the stairs behind Leandra, wringing your hands anxiously.  You certainly looked the part of a Kirkwall noble.  And so far you’d done alright at dinners and afternoon tea.  But a formal ball… you resisted the urge to bite your lip, lest you ruin your makeup.  Then you realized it was your turn.  Leandra had been announced and swept down the grand staircase while you’d been fretting away.

            “Presenting: Lady_______ Amell, daughter of Damion Amell, cousin to Leandra Amell-Hawke.”

            You quickly masked your surprised expression with a demure smile, and slowly descended the stairs.  You allowed your gaze to sweep the room, but refused to make eye contact with anyone.  You could have sworn you heard murmurs and whispering. Once you’d reached Leandra, she took your arm and whisked you away.

            “I should have told you dear, I’m sorry.” She apologized. “I told them you were my cousin’s child and had the family name, that way no one would be suspicious.”

            “But… won’t they like… find out?” You asked, absolutely bewildered.

            “I actually just sorted it out this morning.” She replied smugly. “That Varric fellow produced some documents and I handed them in to the Viscount this morning.”

            “Oh.” You managed to reply.

            “Varric is quite talented! He even managed to clear my cousin’s name, and the city granted us a sizable sum as apology for his false imprisonment.  Of course, Damion _was_ a smuggler, which I don’t condone, but never mind.” Leandra chatted with you cheerfully, oblivious to your mild discomfort. “Anyhow, we told them Damion was legally married before, then his wife had you and left Kirkwall after he was imprisoned.  Now she’s passed away, and you managed to come here from Nevarra!”

            “Uh-huh.” You nodded, still unsure of you felt about officially being an Amell.  It just seemed so… permanent.  Like you really were here forever.  Fortunately, Leandra soon saw some of her favorite frenemies and had scurried off to gossip with them.  You weren’t alone more than three minutes before a rather arrogant man approached you.

            “Young Lady Amell.  I am Uther Cavin, son of Seneschal Bran.”  He grabbed your hand and brought it to his lips.

            “Charmed, I’m sure.” You reply drily, though your lack of enthusiasm seemed lost on him.

            “Dance with me.”  He commanded, sweeping you out onto the floor before you could protest.

            Uther danced incredibly stiffly, and had an iron grip on your waist.  As you both awkwardly moved across the floor, he began regaling you with some exceptionally boring tales… all were about his favorite subject.  Himself.

            “You’re exceptionally well bred for being raised in Nevarra.” Uther praised.  “As I am sure you know, this ball is a wonderful opportunity to match make.  I myself--”

            “Begging your pardon Ser Uther, but Lady Amell promised to save a dance for me.” A familiar voice with a thick accent caused you to stop suddenly.

            “What?” Uther demanded rudely, dropping his grasp on you.

            Before he could further express his displeasure, you were twirled around into another man’s arms.  You beamed up at your savior as he gracefully led the dance away from the sputtering Uther.

            “Sebastian, my hero!” You whispered dramatically. “I thought I was done for.”

            “You did look to be a damsel in distress.” Sebastian commented, blue eyes twinkling. “And to be honest, no one really likes Uther.  There’s a reason he’s still a bachelor.”

            You’d relaxed immediately once you were in Sebastian’s capable hands.  He led the dance elegantly, making even you look polished.  He held you firmly but gently.  You noted that several women were glaring at you both with open jealousy.

            “And what about you, serrah?” You teased your partner. “Why are _you_ still a bachelor?  You’re quite eligible.”

            Sebastian blushed and stammered that he had taken vows.  You of course already knew that.  But one of your favorite parts of the game had been flirting with the chaste prince.

            “I’m just giving you a hard time.” You reassure him innocently. “At least, I’m trying to!”

            “______!” Sebastian’s eyes widened and you laughed aloud, attracting glances your way.  “That is… that’s most improper!”

            “Sorry, sorry.” You giggle. “It’s too easy.”

            “So I hear.” He grumbled.

            “I really didn’t mean to upset you…” You guided his other hand to your waist and wrapped your arms around his neck, slowing to match the music.

            He gazed at you solemnly, his face now red because of your closeness.

            “I know.  But you shouldn’t tease me.” He warned, suddenly dipping you low, nose to nose.  “I am still a man.”

            Now it was your turn to blush.  Could it be you had an effect on him…?  Or was it vain to think so?  Before you could ponder this further, the dance ended.  Sebastian brought your hand to his lips and kissed it, earning a little shiver from you.

            “I ought to take my leave now. Good night, milady.” He murmured, leaving you to stare after him in wonder.


	7. Easy as ABC

 “You’d never know you weren’t from here.” Leandra remarked one morning over tea. “You’ve picked up on everything so quickly, and you look lovely in our clothes…”

            “It’s all thanks to you, Leandra.” You protested, blushing slightly at the praise.

            “It’s like you were meant to be here all along.” The older woman replied thoughtfully. “Have you ever thought about that?  Perhaps this is part of the Maker’s plan.”

            You shrugged and picked at a tart, appetite suddenly gone.  You’d been in this world for nearly three months.  Was it the same in your world?  Or had you only been gone for minutes?  You’d long since abandoned the notion of being in a coma.  This was, somehow, real.  You supposed you did believe in destiny to a certain extent… but to end up in a video game?

            “Well, I have an appointment this afternoon, so you’re free.” Leandra interrupted your thoughts and patted your hand gently. “I know Garrett and the Mabari wandered off along the coast with the dwarf and those elves, but I imagine they’ll return soon.”

            You stood up and exchanged kisses on the cheek, as noble women do.  Then Leandra swept you into a warm motherly embrace, catching you off guard.

            “It’ll all be just fine.  One way or another.” She murmured. “Just remember… you are a part of our family now and will be as long as you like.”

            You choked back tears and nodded, burying your face in her shoulder.  At least you weren’t alone in this world.

 

* * *

 

 

            You dawdled around the estate for another hour or so before deciding to take your leave.  Your frequent offers to help Orana had nearly reduced her to tears, but you couldn’t stand to watch her work anymore.  It was rainy outside, so you wrapped yourself in a cloak before heading out.

            There were very few people outside, which made sense, considering the weather.  You didn’t mind the rain at all though.  Your cloak was made of a fine, heavy cloth, and had been woven with a water-repelling enchantment courtesy of Sandal.  And so you contented yourself with browsing the stalls for awhile.  Once you’d made a few rounds, you supposed you might as well return home to see if Hawke and Company had arrived.

            As you began to set off, a familiar head of white hair caught your eye.

            “Fenris!” You called, waving to the figure slouching away from the bookseller.

            The elf jumped in surprise, then scowled as you scurried over.

            “Oh I love to read.” You chirped, purposely ignoring his irritation. “What book did you buy?”

            He shrugged, and turned a rather odd shade of pink.  Before he could protest, you snatched the object from his underneath his arm.

            “The Book of Shartan.” You read aloud, furrowing your brow. “Huh. That sounds familiar for some reason”

            “Shartan… I didn’t realize.” Fenris looked thoughtful.

            You then realized why the book sounded familiar.  It was a quest item.  But in the game, Hawke gave it to Fenris… he didn’t acquire it on his own.  You wondered if you were having more of an impact in this world than you thought, and what it could mean.

            “…________?” Fenris sounded mildly annoyed at you spacing out.

            “Hey, Fenris…” You hesitated, unsure if this was the right thing to do. “Do you um.  Want to maybe… read this together…”

            Fenris looked just as hesitant, and didn’t seem to want to answer you.

            “Or I could… read it to you?” You tried again, not wanting to embarrass him, or worse, creep him out with your intimate knowledge of his past.

            “I… cannot read.” He confessed finally, staring at something over your shoulder.

            “I’ll teach you.”

            Fenris’ large green eyes locked on yours again, and you both stared at each other for a few moments.  Then he finally answered.

            “…Alright.  But please… don’t tell Hawke.”

            “It’ll be our secret.” You promised, looping your arm through his.  “We can study at your place.”

            You began to tug him toward his mansion.

            “Right now?” He asked, looking puzzled but allowing himself to be led off.

            “Rainy days are best for reading!” You answered.

            “Very well.” He gave you the smallest of smiles, and your heart skipped a beat.

 

* * *

 

 

            Several hours later, Fenris had mastered the alphabet and was beginning to sound out basic words.  You couldn’t help but be rather pleased with yourself.  Fenris was an eager student though, and not easily dissuaded.  And of course you hadn’t doubted his intelligence for a moment.  You watched him mouth a few words to himself silently as he studied the first page of his new book.  You smiled, and yawned contentedly.  He looked up at the noise.

            “Shall we finish for today?” He asked.

            “Seems like a good stopping point.” You answered. “You caught on really quick… I’m very proud of you.”

            Fenris offered you another rare smile, the second of the day.  Then he strode to a nearby cupboard and returned with two crystal goblets and a bottle with dark red wine.

            “This is worth celebrating then.” He poured you each a glass and raised his in a toast. “To my teacher… and friend.”

            You beamed brightly and clinked your glass against his.  You’d finally won him over it seemed.  No longer were you the burdensome mad woman who’d crash landed into his life.  You took a generous sip and hiccupped, causing Fenris to chuckle.

            “Too strong?” He asked, eyes dark with amusement.

            “Not at all.” You answered confidently, taking another swig.

            Before long you’d both finished off the bottle, and then another one.  Fenris hardly seemed affected at all, but you were feeling rather warm and fuzzy.  The two of you sat shoulder to shoulder, gazing at the fireplace as the flames danced.  You leaned against him, yawning.

            “This is fun.” You told him.

            “Fun…?” Fenris raised a brow. “You’re a funny woman.”

            “Hmm. You’re a funny guy.” You replied drowsily, nuzzling against him.

            Fenris stiffened at your touch, but didn’t move away.  He licked his lips nervously, stealing glances at you.  The fire was reflecting in your glassy eyes, and you looked utterly content.  Being so close was strange, but not unpleasant.  It was nothing like the times Danarius or others had touched him. Hesitantly, he gently lowered his head to rest on yours.  The tender moment was quickly ruined by the sound of your soft snoring.  He sighed, but allowed himself a smile… something he’d done an awful lot that day.

            Very carefully, Fenris gathered you up in his arms and headed for the door.  Luckily, the rain had since stopped, and it would be a short walk to Hawke’s home.  The sooner he got you home the better though.  Hawke was likely already wondering where you were.  Fenris’ smiled slipped at the thought of encountering the nosy rogue.  He was _not_ looking forward to explaining this… situation… to his friend.


	8. Off to See the Wizard

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Worked in a few characters, hopefully the wait was worthwhile. :*

            You awoke feeling particularly warm and happy.  Unusually warm, even.

            “Good morning, princess.” A hoarse, sleepy voice spoke up.

            “HAWKE!?”

            You would’ve fallen out of the bed had the rogue not caught you by the waist and pulled you into his chest.

            “Shh.  My mother won’t like hearing a woman yell my name… especially so early.” He scolded.

            “What are we doing!?” You demanded, pushing away to glare into his mischievous blue eyes.

            “Don’t you remember? You got completely shit-faced with Fenris. Thanks for the invite, by the way.” He pouted. “Then I carried you up to bed to tuck you in, you begged me to stay…”

            “Oh no.” You felt your cheeks heat up. “Oh Hawke. Whatever I said or did, I’m so sorry.”

            There was no denying how incredibly attractive Garrett Hawke was.  And it’d been a very long time since you’d had a good drink, let alone multiple wine bottles from a magical land.  And it’d been even longer since you’d had someone in bed with you, if you were being honest.  Had you thrown yourself at poor Hawke?  Tried to reenact some of your favorite fanfiction scenes?

            "Who apologizes to a strange man in their bed?”  Hawke began to laugh heartily. “Ah.  That’s rich.  You just wanted to snuggle and talk, since that’s ‘what you do at a sleepover’, whatever that means.”

            “Oh! So. I made a fool of myself, but not a total fool.” You sighed, feeling some relief.

            “A beautiful woman wanting to be held by a dashing rogue? What’s foolish about that?” Hawke spoke low, running his fingers down your arm, causing you to shiver.

            You would’ve swooned right then and there if it wasn’t for the Cheshire cat grin plastered on his face.  Instead, you swatted him away and tumbled out of bed.

            “Leave my chambers.” You ordered, cheeks still burning.

            “Very well, milady.” Hawke yawned and moseyed toward the door, but not before brushing his lips against your ear.

            “Should you like company again, you know where to find me.”

            Fortunately, he was gone before you could hit him again… or worse, swoon into his arms.

 

* * *

 

 

            A few hours and a hot bath later, you were in full command of your senses.  You couldn’t believe you’d allowed Hawke of all people to rile you up like that.  He was the biggest flirt of all, besides Isabella.  You scowled, deciding you’d have to find a way to get back at him for flustering you.

            In the meantime, however, Leandra had a very heavy basket of scones and other baked goods that needed delivering.  She’d had some business or other to attend to, so it fell to you to head down to the Gallows.  Every month she and Orana put together a large assortment of treats for Bethany to enjoy.  Several of them ended up in Templar stomachs, but as long as a few got to Bethany, it was worth it.

            You were wearing a cream-colored dress today, with a light blue corset and accents, as well as a matching blue cloak.  You were finding that you were beginning to enjoy dressing this way, as long as it wasn’t the overly complicated outfits Leandra liked for you.  You felt like you were in a Disney movie sometimes.

            _‘Minus the red shoes that take you home, or the happy ending.’_ You thought gloomily. _‘…Wait no. That’s Wizard of Oz. …Whatever.’_

            You approached the entrance to the Circle, guarded by a rather unpleasant looking Templar.  Despite his frown, you kept your head raised and smiled at him sweetly.

            “Good day, serrah.  I’m here to drop this off for a relative.”

            “Hm? Sure, I’ll take that.” He grabbed the basket from your hands, eyeing the contents hungrily.

            “It’s for Bethany Amell, from her mother. Lady Leandra.” You frowned, having a bad feeling about where this was going.  
            “Sure, whatever girly. Go on then.  No lollygaggin’.” He dismissed you.

            “Excuse you.” You put your hands on your hips and drew yourself up to full height, pursing your lips like you’d seen Leandra do. “I am Lady ______, of the Amells.  It’s very important--”

            “And I said… shove off.” The man leaned in toward you, leering. “I don’t take kindly to mouthy girls… at least, not when they’re talking.”

            Without thinking, you backhanded the man and let out a stream of unladylike curses.  His shock lasted only a second before he pinned you against the wall, wrists above your head.

            “You stupid little wench, I’ll--”

            “Ser Alrik! That’s quite enough!”

            The weight of the man bearing down on you was suddenly removed, and you slid down the wall, staring in wonder at the scene before you.

            “The little bitch slapped me--”

            “I heard and saw everything.  Including why she slapped you.” You savior was another Templar, with dark blonde curls and flashing hazel eyes.  “Your behavior will not be tolerated. I’ll be having a word with the Knight-Commander.”

            As your assailant began to protest, the other man cut him off with a sharp dismissal.

            “Yes, Knight-Captain.” Alrik saluted sarcastically and gave you a lingering look before skulking away.

            “I am so sorry, my lady.” The Knight-Captain turned his piercing gaze on you, offering a hand. “Please know that is not the way of Templars.”

            You accepted his gauntleted hand and rose to your feet rather ungracefully.

            “Ser Cullen.” He introduced himself, bowing his head slightly.

            “_____.” You replied.

            You thought you’d recognized that voice.  You’d replayed the Mage path in Origins so many times, all because of him.  Hell, you'd even used a mod to restore the deleted romance scenes.  And every time you played Inquisition you were drawn into his route as well.  Cullen suddenly realized he was still gripping your hand, and dropped it as he fumbled through an apology.

            “Lady Amell-”

            “Just _____ is fine.” You assured him, smiling at the slight blush on his cheeks.

            “Ah. Well.” He scratched the back of his head awkwardly. “I really must… be attending to things.  To my duties. I will make sure this basket gets to your cousin.”

            “Bethany would be very grateful.” You thanked him. “And so would I, Ser Cullen.”

            “Of course. And I am… terribly sorry.” He apologized again, looking awkward. “If… if you ever need anything, I should be glad to make this up to you.”

            “I’ll keep that in mind.” You replied, mind already racing.

            “______! Are you alright?”

            Before you could attempt to converse with Cullen any further, a hooded Anders appeared at your side, looking at the Templar venomously.

            “Hello!” You greeted your friend warmly. “Just dropping off a basket for Bethany.  Ser Cullen will take care of it.”

            “Ah yes.  Thank you serrah.” He rolled his eyes and grabbed your hand, pulling you away. “We’ll be going then.”

            You gave Cullen an apologetic look as Anders ushered you away.  Once you were several yards away he pulled you into a secluded corner of the courtyard.

            “You shouldn’t get too friendly with Templars.” He warned in hushed tones.

            You began to protest, but he squeezed your clasped hands and rested his free hand on your cheek.

            “Please.” He was so close, you could count his freckles, despite the shadow of his hood. “You’ve become a big part of our lives.  Of my life.  You must be careful.  If anything were to happen to you…”

            He licked his lips nervously, dark eyes pleading.  You found yourself nodding along in agreement.  How could you argue?

 

* * *

 

       

            Unbeknownst to you both, Cullen was still watching across the courtyard.  His heart twinged oddly, in a way it hadn’t since Ferelden.  Not that this surprised him.  He’d heard the girl call herself an Amell.  True, she didn’t necessarily look like the one Amell he’d known… but something in those eyes was familiar to him.  She was… different, somehow.  Just like Solona had been.

            Cullen frowned as the (also oddly familiar) hooded man swept you into a warm embrace.  And just like Solona, you never would be interested in a man like Cullen Rutherford.


	9. Taken

            You’d begun to lose track of just how long you’d been in Kirkwall.  It’d been several months, at least.  Your new friends and family were aware of this, and did their best to keep you occupied.  In the rare moments of solitude, however, you found yourself grieving.  It wasn’t the conveniences of modern life you missed.  The lack of phones and internet and social media had become refreshing.  You missed your independence as a young adult.  You didn’t have a “dream job”, but you made decent money and enjoyed your coworkers and boss.  You were never close with your family, but you found yourself missing the visits you’d once had with your parents and other relatives. 

             One night you couldn’t take it anymore.  It was overwhelming.  Your usually comforting room was suffocating.  You threw a cloak on over your light leggings and tunic, and trotted down the stairs quietly.  It was late enough that Hawke, Leandra, and the servants would be fast asleep.  Everyone was snoring.  Except for…

            _WOOF._

You jumped, nearly losing your balance as you approached the front door.  Little Hawke was cocking his head to the side, looking puzzled.

            “Shhh boy.” You cooed reassuringly. “Just going for a little stroll.”

            He whined at you, and paced in a circle.  Even the dog could tell you were out of sorts.  And no doubt he’d been instructed to keep an eye on you as well.

            “I’ll be fine.  I think I’ll go to the Chantry.” You patted his head, a little disconcerted by the knowing look in his eyes. “Don’t wake anyone up.  Really. I’ll be back before you know it.”

            The Mabari huffed, clearly unhappy.  You scratched his ears and assured him he was, in fact, a very good boy.  He wagged his tail half-heartedly in response, then went to go brood by the fireplace.  You breathed a sigh of relief and slipped off into the night.  You hadn’t been let out alone in at least a week.  Your tendency to attract unwanted attention probably had a factor in this, but you shrugged it off.  You weren’t some damsel in distress after all.  You were a modern woman, strong and capable!  Feeling confident, you strolled along past your neighbors’ homes.

You’d barely made it out of Hightown when someone grabbed you from behind and pressed a cloth over your mouth and nose.  Any cries you made were muffled, and your struggling did nothing against your mysterious captor.  You found yourself becoming dizzy, and realized they were drugging you.  You scratched at their arms frantically, and tried to move your head.  Your kicks were useless and easily avoided. 

 _‘Well shit,’_ was your last coherent thought before your vision grew fuzzy and dim.

 

* * *

 

 

            Garrett Hawke found himself stirring in bed unusually early.  There was a warm, foul air wafting into his face.  He opened his eyes to see his trusty Mabari, looking upset.

            “Ugh. Little Hawke.  _What_ are we _feeding_ you!?” He groaned, sitting up.

            Little Hawke walked over to the door in response, staring over his shoulder.  Hawke grumbled but got out of bed.  It wasn’t very often that the Mabari gave him such an early wake up call, so he supposed it must be important.  He followed the war hound to your bedroom.  The door was wide open, and there was no obvious sign of you.  Hawke felt his heart drop but wasn't sure why.

            “Is she with Mother?  Or one of our other friends?” He asked the Mabari, who was already walking down the stairs.

            Little Hawke assumed a pointing stance at the door, then tucked his tail behind his legs and whimpered.

            “She left? Alone? And you let her!?” Hawke looked aghast.

            The Mabari ducked his head in shame.

            “When?”

            _BARK. WOOF._

“She’s been gone hours then… that’s not like her.  Someone would have sent word if they saw her.” Hawke shook his head grimly, turning back toward the direction of his room. “I’m grabbing my things.  Be prepared to put that nose of yours to work.”


	10. A Daring Rescue

            Within two hours, Hawke and his friends were scattered across the city in search of you.  Varric was at home base in the Hanged Man, gathering leads and networking.  Sebastian had made a post on the Chanter’s board and was combing Hightown, while Fenris searched Lowtown.  Anders and some trusted refugees were looking through Darktown, Isabella took to the docks, Merrill was asking around the Alienage for help, and Aveline was sending some of her guards out to check the coast.

            “We will get her back, Hawke.” Aveline had vowed. “And when she is back… maybe then she’ll reconsider letting me show her some fighting techniques.”

            Hawke himself was trying to follow what was left of your trail, aided by his Mabari.  They’d managed to track you just outside of Hightown, but after then, nothing.  There had been too much foot traffic between your disappearance and now.  Your scent and that of the captor or captors was fading.

            Hawke trudged back toward his estate, disheartened and frustrated.  You’d definitely been taken, his Mabari had confirmed that much.  But who did it?  He felt a twinge of guilt.  Perhaps you’d have been better off if someone else had found you on the beach that day.  Hawke and his friends were well known and made great defenders, sure.  But they made plenty of enemies.

            Before he could reflect or wallow further, Bodahn appeared and nearly collided with him.

            “Messere Hawke!” He gasped, a little out of breath. “Lady Leandra received this note.  It’s about Lady ______!”

            Hawke grabbed the letter from the dwarf, not even bothering with a thank you.  Bodahn continued babbling nervously while Little Hawke barked excitedly.

_To the Amells-_

_We have Lady _____.  If you want her back alive, leave 5000 sovereigns at the designated place in 2 hours._

_We will return her within 24 hours of receiving this payment.  Leave the coins, then begone.  No funny business.  Come by yourself._

            “Lady Leandra already has the payment ready.” Hawke heard Bodahn say.

            “Perfect.” Hawke nodded, smirking. “It’s more of a loan though… Mother will get her money back.  And ______ too.”

 

* * *

 

         

   You were out cold for several hours before waking up with a pounding headache.  Your captors had chained you to a rather uncomfortable chair.  Each ankle was cuffed to a chair leg, and your arms were cuffed behind your back.  A cloth had been firmly tied around your mouth for good measure.

            “Hello, Lady Amell.” A large brute greeted, looking you up and down with interest. “You’re even prettier up close.”

            You scowled as best you could, earning a leer in response.  What teeth were left were discolored, and his face was littered with scars.  He removed your gag and stroked your cheek gently.  You fought the urge to spit at him.

            “What do you want with me?” You asked, flinching away as his hand dropped to caress your neck and collarbone.

            “Myself and my associates aren’t bringing in coin like we used to.  Hawke and his pack of do-gooders made sure of that.  I figured we’d have to grab his old lady.  But one day I walk by to check the place out, and what do I see?”

            He leaned in closer still, his breath hitting your face.  You felt your stomach turn.

            “Turns out there’s another Lady Amell.  And she’s just my type.”

            “Hawke will come for me.” You warned.

            “I’m counting on it.” He replied. “But in the meantime…”

            One of his hands dropped to your waist, while the other pawed at your breasts.  You did spit at him then, calling him every name you could think of.  He backhanded you before wiping the spit off his cheek.  His eyes gleamed angrily as he retied your gag.  He dragged your chair to the other end of the room, where a bed was that you hadn’t noticed.  You began thrashing and fighting as best you could, but you were no match for the heavy metal bindings.

            “Boss!”

            You were mercifully interrupted by three underlings bursting into the room, one clutching a large coin purse.

            “We got the money boss!  He’ll be here soon though, he followed us.”

            “Excellent.” Your assailant grinned.  “Let’s make sure everyone is in position.  We need to give our fine friends a proper welcome.”

 

* * *

 

 

            Everyone had wanted to come with once Hawke announced the arrival of the letter.  You were important to all of them.  But he knew from experience it was better to move in a smaller group.  He was going, of course, and had chosen Anders, Sebastian, and Fenris.  All three men had already made it clear there was no way Hawke was leaving them behind.  Fenris and Anders didn’t even complain about being within twenty feet of each other (yet).  Hawke made a mental note to thank you for somehow unifying everyone in this way… and also to never let you leave the house alone again.

            The team had followed the idiots collecting the money easily enough.  Their base was one of the many abandoned caves dotting the Wounded Coast.  There was an obvious lack of guards as the group entered the cavern.

            “This looks like a trap.” Sebastian warned, pulling a few arrows out of his quiver.

            “It almost always is.” Anders agreed grimly.

            “Then we’re walking right into it?” Fenris looked at Hawke in mild irritation.

            Hawke shrugged.

            “Look, they obviously want us to follow.  They’re not that smart.  We’ve beat tougher guys before.  So we’ll go in, kick ass, grab _______, get back Mother’s money with maybe a little interest, then head home.”

            “If they touched her at all, I swear I’ll-” Anders’ eyes flashed blue, his voice deepening.

            “Scar her for life and go full abomination?” Fenris suggested, expression sour.

            “We all care for _______.” Sebastian reminded his friends.

            “Look, I don’t care about being subtle, but you guys are getting loud.” Hawke complained as they descended lower. “I know they’re expecting us, but-”

            An arrow flew by, grazing Hawke’s cheek.  The discussion was immediately dropped as everyone drew their weapons.  They charged down the passage at the approaching thugs.  Fenris and Hawke fought almost back to back, cutting down everyone in their path.  Anders and Sebastian kept their distance, firing spells and arrows.

            Within moments the battle was over.  The men waded through the blood and bodies and came into a large room.  Predictably, more gang members were waiting for them.  Without hesitating, the team launched back into battle.  Then a sudden shrill scream broke through the din, catching their attention.

            You had been removed from your chains and thrown onto a bed by the leader, only to wriggle away.  You sprinted out onto a platform where you saw the chaos below you.  You hesitated, wondering if you should try to get one of your friends’ attention.  That moment cost you dearly as your captor caught up to you and grabbed you, eliciting the scream.

            “________!!” You heard your name cried out in near unison.

            “HAWKE!” The man holding you bellowed. “This ends now!”

            The man drew a dagger and looked at you with wild eyes.

            “Sorry darling.  Things don’t always go according to plan!”

            He drew it across your throat and you collapsed with a splutter, clutching at the wound desperately.  Almost immediately he fell alongside you, an arrow piercing his forehead, his eyes staring but not seeing.  The fighting below you seemed to become fiercer, but you were too busy trying to put pressure on your neck to care.

            Before long your hands were ripped away from your neck and replaced with another pair.

            “An.. Anders!” You choked out, alarmed by the glowing man before you.

            _“SILENCE.”_ He commanded, skin crackling with blue energy, his eyes entirely blue.

            Justice had taken over.  That explained why the fight had suddenly grown so loud, only to seemingly end all together.  You were faintly aware of heavy feet stomping your way, as the other three arrived.

            You heard a few curses and muttered prayers (mostly Sebastian).  As your neck began to heal, you felt yourself coming more into focus.  You were quite a sight, you supposed.  There were dark bruises on your neck, arms and left cheek.  Your clothing had been torn, exposing some of your underclothes.  And now on top of it you were covered in blood.

            “______?”

            You stared up into warm brown eyes.  Justice had faded and left an exhausted and worried Anders.

            “Hi.” You managed a little breathlessly. “Good to see you.”

            “I thought I’d lost you.” He murmured, pulled you up into a sitting position and embracing you.

            You relaxed into his touch, exhausted.  He held you tightly, face buried in your hair.  Hawke, Fenris, and Sebastian all hovered anxiously (and somewhat awkwardly).  Hawke finally cut in.

            “I’m carrying her back.”

            Anders guided you to your feet, and you began to protest, but Hawke scooped you up and away from the disappointed mage.  Sebastian and Fenris looked at you, both looking uncharacteristically emotional.  You couldn’t help but feel guilty for being so irresponsible.

            The group began to file out toward the exit of the cave, and Hawke looked at you, his blue eyes fierce.

            “This will never happen to you again.” He swore. “I’ll never let you go.”

            Your heart flipped a little, unused to his seriousness.

            “Well, if you insist.” You answer wearily, not in the mood to protest. “I’ll argue with you when I’m feeling better.”

            “I’d be surprised if you didn’t.” He replied, expression softening slightly. “But no one is gonna back you up on this one.”

            You rested your head on his shoulder, deciding to drop it.  In all honesty, you didn’t think you’d want to be left alone for a good while after that experience.  But you still had enough fight left in you to not be a damsel in distress.  ...Probably.


	11. Training Day

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xSmYAdiXb5M
> 
> Back again, after a job change and some family issues and yada yada.

            “Aveline, I uh… don’t know if this is for me.”

            “You wanted training, didn’t you?”

            You had exchanged your usual flowy, feminine attire for a set of leather armor you’d bought yourself.  In your right hand you awkwardly held a sword, and with your left you attempted to balance a slightly too large shield.  Aveline had been using a wooden sword and moving incredibly slowly, but you’d still managed to get the wind knocked out of you a few times, and you were fairly sure your tailbone was bruised from falling.

            “Well yeah.  But-”

            “Then we start with the basics.” Aveline frowned at your hesitance. “We’ve only been at it for 3 hours.  You’ll get there.”

            “3 hours!?” You groaned, falling back onto your sore bottom. “I yield.”

            “That’s exactly the attitude that will get your damsel ass kidnapped again.” Aveline complained, exasperated.

            “I’m not a warrior!” You argued, irritated. “Look.  Maybe I shouldn’t have asked you to teach me to fight… I need to just be able to defend myself until someone comes for me.  Or sneak away.”

            “What honor is in that?” The redhaired woman before you scoffed.

            You shrugged.  You admired Aveline’s pride and drive… but she was a literal tower of strength.  You… well.  You weren’t terribly out of shape or anything, but you were an average woman.  An average, modern, 21st century woman, who normally would be content with pepper spray and a rape whistle.

            Aveline sighed and offered a hand to pull you up.  You allowed her to do so, and she rested a hand on your shoulder and gave you a rare smile.

            “You did put in good effort.” She informed you. “Maybe see if Merrill has some smoke screen potions she could whip up for you, or have Isabella show you how to wrestle out of someone’s grip.”

            “That’s… good advice.  Thank you Aveline!” You beamed at the guard captain, then took your leave.

            By the end of the day, you’d be a self defense master, you vowed.

 

 

* * *

 

 

            Approximately 4 hours and 23 minutes later, you were armorless and sitting in Anders’ clinic while Merrill and Isabella both frantically talked at once, trying to explain themselves to an irritated healer.

            “I didn’t think the smoke bombs were so strong, I-”

            “It was totally consensual, she wanted me to—”

            “OUT.” Anders finally covered his ears and cut both women off. “BOTH OF YOU.”

            Merrill and Isabella whispered a few more apologies as they scurried out.  Anders turned to you and sighed, running a hand through his hair.  You looked up at him through your good eye, sheepishly.

            “We really have to stop meeting like this.” You joked.

            “You really should leave the fighting to the professionals… not start a circus with a blood mage and a pirate.” He quipped back. “Now let’s look at you.”

            You were covered head to toe in soot from Merrill’s homemade smokescreen bombs… some of which had gotten in your right eye, which was now watery and sightless.  You were still a little disoriented, since Isabella had choked you a little too hard (again) and you’d passed out (again).  You also had several suspicious marks littering your neck and collarbone that suggested Isabella had been a little too amorous when attempting to awake you.  On top of all that, you had a few fractured bones here and there.

            Anders fetch a warm bowl of water and a rag, and gently began cleaning your face so he could heal your eye.  Luckily, your friends had brought you in quickly enough that not too much damage had been done.  You blinked at the mage, now able to appreciate the sight of him healing your bruises and bones. 

            It was amazing how gentle and precise his large, rough hands were.  Every touch was feather light and warm.  The glow of his magic and the dim lamps illuminated his tired, handsome face.  His brow was furrowed slightly as he concentrated on your injuries, but his look softened when he caught your eye.

            “So what brought all this on?” He asked, reaching to brush more soot off your cheek.

            “I was training… or trying to.” You responded, looking embarrassed. “I don’t want to be dead weight.  You guys shouldn’t need to worry about me.  You’ve all got jobs and missions and whatever.”

            Anders nodded in understanding.  It’d been a couple of weeks since your kidnapping, and you were still blaming yourself and apologizing.

            “You’ve adapted to this world so well.  But even you can’t master everything in under a year.” He reminded you.

            You scowled and looked away.  You couldn’t help but feel weak and ashamed.  Anders took your face in your hands and gently forced you to meet his eyes.

            “I know you’re strong in your own ways.  But we all have weaknesses.  Let us keep you safe.”

            “I always feel safe with you.” You confess quietly, cheeks heating up at the tender look his golden brown eyes.

            “You shouldn’t.” He murmured, looking a little sad. “I’d drown us in blood to keep you safe… but I am dangerous.”

            “I uh.  Also like flowers.” You suggested, unable to stop yourself from smiling at the familiar line. “You know.  Instead of blood everywhere.”

            Anders chuckled sadly, removing his hands from you.  You felt a twinge of disappointment, and wondered if you’d misspoke.

            “If you’re looking for romance… I’m the wrong man.  There will only be more violence.  I could even end up being the one to hurt you.”

            “I don’t believe that.” You argue, getting off the cot to stand in front of him. “You can control yourself.  I know you can.”

            “Thank you.” Anders smiled at you sadly. “I should… get you back home.  To Hawke.”

            “No, wait--”

            Anders had turned and strode toward the door but you chased after and threw your arms around his waist, and buried your face in his back.  You felt your heart beating wildly at your sudden impulse.  This was probably not a good idea, but you couldn’t help yourself.  Even if he was rejecting you, he needed to know you wouldn’t do the same to him.  Maybe that was why you were here… maybe you could help.  Help Anders, and change things.

            “You don’t want to do this… I’ll lose control around you.” He replied, his voice suddenly lower and huskier.

            You shivered a little, but didn’t let go.  He disentangled himself from you and turned, then suddenly pulled you close to him and leaned in toward you.  You responded in kind and,

            “I hope I’m not interrupting.”

             The two of you sprang apart awkwardly under Varric’s stony gaze.  You were a little surprised to see your favorite writer so serious.  In all honesty, you wouldn’t have put it past him to have been writing down some assumptions about what he’d just walked in on.

            “Hawke’s been looking for _______.  The girls told us what happened, so I volunteered to pick you up.  Let’s go, Princess.” Varric gestured to the open door behind him.

            You nodded, confused as to why Varric and Anders were staring at each other so intently.  Anders bid you an oddly formal farewell, then disappeared into the back of his clinic.  You trotted out after Varric, utterly bemused.

            The walk back to Hightown was uncomfortably silent up until you reached your doorstep, at which point Varric sighed and looked at you uncomfortably.

            “Look…” He began, putting his hands up defensively. “You’re a grown woman.  But you’re my friend.  I care about you.  I care about Blondie too, don’t get me wrong.  But… maybe, just maybe, getting involved with the possessed mage might be dangerous.  Of course, I could say the same thing about the angsty spiky elf.  Or the emotionally conflicted leader that fights first, asks questions later.  Hell.  I’d even warn you about a tempted chantry boy…”

            “Varric, I um.  I’m not sure where you’re going with this.”

            “Just… be careful.” Varric patted your arm. “There. I said my piece.  Good night!”

            With that, your dwarven guardian disappeared into the night, leaving you just as confused as ever.

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first time doing a reader insert, so let me know how I did! Thanks for reading.


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